Found
by bookworm835
Summary: CHAPTER 5 UP! Charlie wakes up one morning and nothing makes sense. Where was he? Where were the others? And what will he do when Claire doesn't remember him? R&R please, my first Lost fic. Shocking chapter (hopefully)
1. Black

**Title: **Found  
**Author: **bookworm835  
**Category:** Drama/Romance  
**Summary: **Charlie wakes up one morning and nothing makes sense. Where was he? Where were the others? And what will he do when Claire doesn't remember him? R&R please, my first Lost fic.  
**Disclaimer: **Er, wish I owned Lost but I don't, I'm just obsessive over it. I own Dr. Natalie Mason though! dances Ehem, even though she's a boring, pathetic, not-important character. ;)  
**A/N:** Tried the drama. Didn't work so well. Tried the confusion! Didn't work so well. Maybe it'll stillbe agood story. It's sorta mystery-ish, I guess.Oh, and I'dbe very, very surprised if I was the only one to do a Charlie-isn't-really-on-the-island-and-it-never-happened-after-all fic. So, to all of you people that have written these sort of stories before, I apologize!! I did not mean to copy, sniff sniff. Dont' sue me!

* * *

Charlie groaned. Everything hurt... but he didn't remember _getting_ hurt. He had fallen asleep last night in his jury-rigged bed as he did every night, still crushed by Claire's absence but fine physically all the same. Now his head ached and his limbs felt like they weighed fifty pounds each. Slowly he willed himself to open his eyes...

Dimmed, flourescent lights heightened his awareness. Blinking sleepily, he felt someone's gentle fingers prodding carefully at his head. He pushed the hand away irritably. It hurt even more when he was touched.

"Mr. Pace?"

His eyes snapping open, Charlie forced himself up onto his elbows, wincing when he felt a searing pain through his ribs; it sent his head spinning. He closed his eyes again, as if if he couldn't see what was around him, he wouldn't be there anymore. The world was dissolving around him, darkness engulfing his senses... but he pushed them away too, growing slightly angry. The black made everything go numb but that was almost as bad as the pain. Where was he? He was in a bed! Someone was easing him back... in a white doctor's coat! He was in a hospital! Where was Jack? Where was Kate? Where was Ethan? Where was Claire?? _Where was he???_

Charlie began to panic, muttering words even he couldn't make out. As the comfort of warm blankets and soft pillows enveloped him he felt the black coming back -- no! He couldn't let it take him! He struggled wildly, yelling with the raw anger that the pain was ripping from him and the fear that grew in his stomach whenever the numbness threatened to shut him back into the shadows.

He shouted a single name that he _did _know, the thing that _did _make sense.

"_Claire_!"

The hands were on him again, feeling his forehead. He heard a voice. A female voice... Australian even... but it wasn't Claire. No... it wasn't his Claire... but the voice was somehow soothing, sweet and smooth, like... like peanut butter, extra creamy. Charlie licked his dry lips It made him _want_ to succumb to the black. The black was sweet also, it took him away from the pain. But it also took him away from reality! He couldn't let it do that, no, he needed to find Claire! But he was too tired, too hurt. He wanted to sleep.

He did the most he could and simply opened his eyes. It _was _the only thing he could do, right? He couldn't do more... right? Charlie wanted to do as much as he could but he was still somehow reluctant. After all, he had been through a lot too. The artificial lights looked odd compared to the sun and fire lights that he had become so accustomed to. He felt like a caveman being transported to the future. He felt so primitave, so useless, but Charlie Pace hated being useless. He'd save Claire, he'd find her... because he loved her! Yes, that he was sure of.

"Mr. Pace?"

There it was again. Charlie's gray-blue eyes slowly scanned the room, seeing all but taking in nothing. Finally his gaze came to and rested on a woman in her late thirties, maybe early forties, slim with graying, curly hair. She smiled gently, her voice so sure, but her eyes were filled with worry.

"Are you alright?" she asked. She was the Aussie with the pretty voice.

Charlie stared at her for a few more moments before responding. "Where am I?" he mumbled, his voice raspy.

The woman heard his wheezing and immediately grappled for a water bottle. She held it up to his lips but he grabbed it from her. He wouldn't be treated like a baby. He guzzled it down thirstily, the cool water feeling like heaven as it flowed down his sore, parched throat. When was the last time he had had something to drink?

When he finished, he wiped his mouth with his forearm messily. He didn't care. He dried his arm on the blanket. Hmph, who cares? he thought. I've got more important things to attend to...

"Who are you? What is this place? What happened?" Charlie asked, his voice clearer. The woman -- the _doctor_ -- smiled gently.

"I'm Doctor Natalie Mason, you're in a hospital in Sydney, Australia, and you were in a plane crash. You have a mild concussion and a broken rib but other than that, you're fine. You're a very lucky man, Mr. Pace."

"W-what? How was I in a 'plane crash'? The plane landed on an island, not back in Sydney. Liam's in Sydney, I left him there.... We were on an uncharted island in the middle of nowhere! There was... a monster... and Ethan, he was there, he was bad, and Claire... she was good! Yeah... bloody hell, my head hurts, where's Claire? Have to talk to her. Where's Claire?"

"Claire? Was she on the plane too?"

"Mmm-hmm. I miss my Claire, she was taken by Ethan. Claire... Claire Littleton. Pregnant lady, long, _gorgeous_ blond hair, big, sparkling blue eyes.... It's urgent! Where's Claire??"

He was getting impatient as his head cleared.

Dr. Mason flipped through the pages on her clipboard. "Um, pregnant woman... Caucasian, right? Let me see -- ahh, here it is. Littleton, Claire M. Eight months pregnant! You're going to be a father soon then, Mr. Pace?"

Charlie shook his head violently, making his thoughts swirl again. "Erm, no, I'm just her friend... she's not my wife or -- or anything," he said, blushing slightly. Dr. Mason grinned back.

"Yes, she left a day ago. She was fine. It's really a miracle. Not many deaths after the crash, actually."

"She -- she _left_? How long have I been here? I have to go see her, do you know where she is? You have to tell me, please! You have to let me see her."

Dr. Mason was staring at Charlie with wide eyes. "Well, if it's that important I suppose I could tell you... I mean, you _are_ her friend? Right? She's staying with a friend few miles down. You could take the bus there. Big, off-white house. You can't miss it, it's huge. Dunno the address, sorry... but I know where it is. I've passed it at least a million times --"

"Yeah, yeah, but where IS it?"

"Oh, right, sorry," she said with a sheepish smile. "Er, take the bus downtown. It's not too far from there. Bus driver should know where it is. You are allowed out later this afternoon. Just be careful and get plenty of rest, alright? Once you find your friend Claire you should sleep for a while. No sports, you know, physical activity. If anything's wrong, just come back here, won't you?"

Charlie shrugged. "Um, right."

"Sleep now. I'll wake you up when you can leave."

"One last thing," Charlie said. "... do you know where any supermarkets are? Er, grocery stores... anything?"

Dr. Mason stopped with her hand on the doorknob. "What do you need?" she asked.

Charlie grinned. "Jar. Empty mason jar... Dr. Mason." It was like she was _meant_ to get it for him, seriously! It made him smirk. That odd, goofy, cheerful smirk that Claire had loved so much.

"Sure. I'll have it for you when you leave."

She left the room.

Charlie's smile faded as he sank back into the pillows. He didn't feel very happy anymore. Why? He didn't know. He didn't know anything anymore. Anymore. Ha. It made him feel so certain of his feelings long ago, even as his memories were piecing themselves together. But they were still incomplete, they were still broken. Oh well. He'd fix them.

He curled up, hugging the blankets to his chest, everything around him warm and soft but so unfamiliar. Finally, he welcomed the darkness, closing his eyes, wondering if the lost had finally been found.

* * *

**You like?? Hope so. If you've made it this far, it wouldn't hurt to review now, would it? I'll only continue if I get enough reviews! Like, ten. Or at least five... sniffle So, yuppers, pleaaaase review! For me? Or at least for Dom?? If you love Dom you MUST review!! -**


	2. Emotion

**Title: **Found  
**Author:** bookworm835  
**Category(s): **Drama/Angst and so many other things too that I cannot include...  
**Summary: **Yah, blah blah blah you already know... summary of last chapter, though -- Charlie wakes up in a hospital bed and can't remember anything. The doctor says the plane crashed but they were all immediately rescued after that. He asks the doctor for an empty mason jar so he can visit Claire.  
**Disclaimer:** WAAAH I DON'T OWN LOST!!! I wish I did, though. ;) It's the most awesome show, like, EVER! I'd have it play at least twice EVERY SINGLE DAY!!I justcan't wait A WHOLE WEEK for another episode!!! It's killing meee!!!!!! Er, ehem.  
**A/N:** Rather emotional chapter... I hope. Maybe even a bit funny. Pay attention to ALL the stuff that he sees, does, says, and so on. It might be important later, hint hint. Oh, and sorry if I forget to make them eat or something... I mean, really! Charlie's been sick in the hospital for at least two days and he hasn't eaten a thing yet. I apologize, I forget. ;) Well, so we continue... sorry if I overdid it with the drama...

* * *

Charlie wearily limped off the bus, gazing up at the almost mansion-like white house. 

_Terrific_, he thought.

He sure hoped this was the right house. There were roses in the front yard, soft and red -- simply beautiful. Like Claire. They crept up close to the house, smooth green vines wrapping gracefully around the railing of a picket fence. The flower bed bordered around the rest of the house too.

_Bloody hell, Claire, who's your friend? Bill Gates??_

Shaking his head disbelievingly, he clutched at the mason jar, his fingers slightly sweaty, slipping around. Fearing he would drop it, he held it tighter, making his palms ache. It was glass... it was fragile. He couldn't let it go, it was his memories. He gazed into it and found it overflowing with -- not peanut butter, but -- love, hate, pain, joy, confusion, doubt, assurance, life, death. All of the jumbled emotions that he had not yet been able to sort out -- he'd give them to Claire. He regretted not giving them to her earlier.

The emotions were strange and almost undescribable, some looking wispy and whitish, others solid and black -- black as night itself. Black as the unconciousness that Charlie had come to know very well. Yet they were all so _real_. He couldn't see the peanut butter when he had made it up for Claire but he could see these things.... Shrugging off the thought, he gave the jar a last embrace, feeling almost reluctant to let it go, and lightly stepped up onto the porch.

He rapped his knuckles on the brightly-painted wood (it was decorated with red roses too) three times, each one corresponding with his racing heartbeat.

_Thump._

_Knock._

_Thump._

_Knock._

_Thump._

_Knock._

Trying to calm himself, he took a few deep breaths, staring at the door expectantly. Blinking, waiting. He saw someone stirring around darkly through the tinted windows. They moved around a bit, sat behind something, and didn't move again.

Charlie knocked again.

"Oy," he called. For some reason, the words "open up!" clumsily fumbled past his lips. What was he doing?? Hmph, some way to wheedle a girl to open up her house (or her friend's, in this case) to him.

After a moment of uncertainty, Charlie boldly put his hand on the door and rattled it around. It was unlocked!

Trying not to alarm anyone into calling the police and arresting him, he slowly opened the door a crack. "Hullo?" he said. "Claire... you there?"

Through the silence a tiny "eep!" was heard from behind the luxurious velvet sofa.

Charlie stood in the entryway for a few seconds, scanning the room for a phone of any sort. There it was, an antique dial phone sitting innocently on a mahogany-wood coffee table, the legs spindled and flawless. The house was almost _too perfect_. It made him uncomfortable.

_I'm a rock god,_ Charlie mused to himself, _and I don't have this much sodding money. Shit, Claire, seriously... who actually _lives_ like this? There must be a butler around here somewhere too, a house maid...._

"Claire...?"

Keeping an eye on the telephone, making sure it was a good distance away, he peered over the top of the couch. And there sat Claire, one hand subconciously rubbing her swollen belly, her wavy hair tumbling in a gold waterfall over her face and down her shoulders. She was absolutely beautiful, exactly as Charlie had remembered her.

"Hey," he mumbled softly, raising an eyebrow. "You alr --"

Her head snapped up, her face full of fear. With one arm she protectively hugged her stomach. She heaved herself up and let out a screeching shriek.

"_Aiyeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!_"

Charlie stumbled backwards, tripping over the Persian rug and falling flat on his back, cursing as pain coursed back through his broken bones. His eyes scanning the area frantically. Finally they rested on Claire.

Her bright, sapphire eyes bore into his grayish-blue ones. She screamed again, picking up a porcelain vase filled with fake fake violets. Raising it above her head, she stood above Charlie, her eyes bulging.

Charlie flung an arm up. "CLAIRE, WAIT!"

She stared at him, breathing heavily. She narrowed her eyes suspiciously but she looked more frightened than menacing. The Aussie was too pretty to be scary, after all. She dropped the vase. It shattered on the polished wooden floors. "_How do you know my name?_" she whispered fearfully.

Gulping, one hand still gripping at the empty mason jar, Charlie's mouth went dry. "Claire... I -- I don't --"

He shook his head. He couldn't explain it. She didn't know him. So instead, he propped himself up on his elbows, shifting his feet around.

Claire nervously put her foot on his ankle, looking around for another weapon. She couldn't find one. "D-don't get up," she said almost pleadingly.

Not wanting to scare her further, Charlie obliged. With shaking hands, he unscrewed the lid of the mason jar and put it in his mouth, clenching to it tightly with his teeth. The lid flipped up and whacked his nose. He snorted and held the jar up, waving it around temptingly.

"C'mon, it's good," he said earnestly.

Claire stared at him like he was crazy. And... who knows, maybe he was. "What do you mean?" she said, her face becoming curiously puzzled. She was struggling to keep her 'mean face.'

He put on his best silly, sappy grin, trying to recall how he had smiled at her on the island when he had first presented the empty jar to her. He looked inside. He didn't see the emotions anymore. He had thought they had been real before... but he guessed that he was just being a bit paranoid. Of course, he didn't see peanut butter either. He dug his finger into the nothingness, swirling it around inside. He spit the lid with a sort of disgusted "bleah" noise. She jumped uneasily away from the top and stifled her giggles as he made a sort of grimace.

Then, blood pounding in his ears (what _would _he do if she didn't remember??), he brought his bare finger up to his lips, stuck out his tongue comically and licked his digit. "Mmm," he said, trying to sound convincing. "It's not poisoned or anything," he added when she continued to goggle at him. He stuffed his finger into his mouth, sucked it for a few seconds, watching Claire's every move. Then he brought out his clean finger (actually, it was dirtier, he supposed... it had been clean when he put it in, now he only coated it in his spit).

"You're crazy, now get outta this house before I call the police," she warned, gazing wide-eyed at his jar.

His eye twitched. "Just try it, please, love," he said in his sweetest voice.

Her brow furrowed. "... What did you call me?" she whispered back.

Now he was getting somewhere. She let him rise to his feet. He flinched and grimaced, holding his rib. Her expression softened.

"Are you alright?" she asked suddenly, reaching out tentatively. He grinned back at her. She recoiled, realizing what she was doing. She cast her eyes downward. He put his finger gently under her chin and coaxed her to look up.

"One lick," he said. His smile lessened slightly and his eyes went cloudy. He put on his best seductive grin and added, "It's the best bloody peanut butter you've ever tasted... just one thing, though. It's... extra creamy...." He couldn't keep a straight face. Laughing gently, he held out the jar. Would she accept it?? If she wouldn't... he'd curl up and die, he decided.

She gave him a small smirk. "Alright," she said.

He felt his heart skip a beat and he let out a sigh of relief, trying to steady his shaking hand. She shyly put the tip of her finger into the jar and brought it back out. Looking nervously up at Charlie, she put it in her mouth. Suddenly, her eyes lit up and she gasped, pulling her finger out, gawking at her fingertip.

"I-i-it tasted like -- it was -- and then --!"

He gave her a satisfied nod, trying not to look too smug. He didn't want to overdo it but he felt a sort of pride welling up in his chest.

But she pushed the jar away. "I -- I can't... this is too weird. I'm sorry," she added, sympathy growing on her face when he deflated, his jaw dropping slightly. "I... I won't call 9-1-1 if you leave now... but if you come back... I'm sorry," she ended lamely, her head hanging.

"B-but, Claire --!"

"Please," she implored, looking almost heartbroken with the face he was giving her. Almost... not quite.

He swallowed, opened his mouth and closed it again in a fish-like manner. His face burned and the happy feeling in his chest had left. "C-Claire... you have to listen... we were on a plane and --"

"You were on the plane??" she asked incredulously. Then she shook her head viciously. "No, I can't.... Go! Just go!"

Bowing his head, he pushed the jar into her hands. "Keep it..." he muttered, his vision blurring.

"I'm just looking after the baby, it'd be best if we didn't see each other...whoever you are.... I don't understand you, please don't be mad.... Maybe you could go to the doctor's?"

He gaped wordlessly at her.

"Erm... I'm sorry... I'm just looking after you."

That was a mistake.

He glared up at her. Oddly enough, he wasn't surprised when her face had been replaced with his brother Liam's. He hadn't expected it... but it didn't shock him in any way whatsoever.

"_You've never looked after me!_" he shouted. "_You don't know me!"_ All of his memories of that godforsaken island rushed back to him... and everything before that. He remembered his niece Meghan's expression when he had stormed off... and when he thrust the jar into Liam (or was it?)'s hands and stalked off, he saw Claire's face flash back into view, her face the same expression as little Meghan's had been.

Skulking off, he walked about until he got to a park. It was empty and slightly windy. Sitting down on a bench he pulled his hoodie up over his head and stuffed his fists deep into his pockets.

His eyes widened.

Slowly, just ever so slowly, he pulled his hand back out of his pocket, his hand clenched into a ball. Then, he uncurled his fingers. There in his hand rested a little baggie full of brown powder.

Looking around, he made sure he was alone. His hands were shaking uncontrollably and his stomach squirmed. He stared at it greedily, suddenly feeling a strong lust building in his mind, his body, his soul.

He opened it and sprinkled it into his palm. It felt so good yet so very bad at the same time, making the skin on his hand tingle underneath the heroin.

All the raw pain and sadness that had been growing in him ever since he woke up in the hospital was making his mind misty; it was obscuring his senses, making him groan and sob at the very thought of it.

Everything he knew was a lie.

Claire hated him, his brother hated him... in fact, Charlie hated himself.

As his dispair engulfed his mind, his body, his soul...

As everything that had happened to him came crashing down on him all at once...

As salty tears streaked his cheeks, filled with grayish wisps of unwanted emotions...

He pinched a bit between his fingertips and brought it up to his lips.

* * *

**YAY! Wunnerful reviews, people. Thankee!! Hope you liked this chappy. ;) Another five reviews please before I go on! Umm, shout-outs, are they called?? Here we go...**

**FanOfLost: **Wow, thanks for the first review!!! Glad you liked.

**CCLover4ever: **Favorites list?? THANK YOU!! (sniff sniff) I am so touched...

**Alatariel10:** You love Dom too? Yay for you!! Isn't he hot? Hehe. Er, glad you liked, hope you enjoyed this chapter too.

**Mythology:** You think? Aww, thanks. Was this soon enough? :D Thanks for contributing to the goal of 5 reviews.

**Mina aka: Mockingbird: **Wow, you really liked?? Loved your enthusiastic review! XD

**Esmarelda Gamgee: **I hope I didn't disappoint you with this chapter! Glad you loved the first chapter, it boosts my... um, self-confidence...? I think that's what it was called, I can't think right now. ;)

**Remember, NEED ANOTHER FIVE REVIEWS! Thanks to those who already reviewed, maybe you'll review again?? CHARLIE FOREVER! Lol**


	3. Confusion

**Title: **Found  
**Author: **bookworm835  
**Category(s): **Drama/Angst/Mystery/Romance/Supernatural/blah blah blah!  
**Summary:** Um summary of last chappy! Charlie went to see Claire and she doesn't remember him. He goes to the park (it's empty) and he finds sum'n in his pocket... oooh, it's getting good! A special (no, not Walt)someone in this chapter...  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own, wah wah wah, sob sob sob. NO MORE RERUNS, ABC!! We must see new episodes!  
**A/N:** Not much to say... very sad, confused people in this chapter, like last chapter's I guess... corny, cheesy, confusing, and so much more, but enjoy nonetheless!!!

* * *

"Charlie? Charlie, wake up."

_Shit, what a headache. Who's that? Oww, not now. Can't you see I'm sleeping...? Christ, I've got enough problems already... Just go away. Please... _

Unwanted memories of Claire came rushing back. Charlie tried feebly to push them back. He was too weak, too tired, too useless. He had always been useless, only a nuisance to the others on the island... if there had ever _been_ an island. Jack had said it himself.

"We don't need you, Charlie."

Depression. Charlie hated it. Charlie knew it. Charlie couldn't escape it.

The man's voice drifted back, coated with worry.

"Are you alright? C'mon, get up."

_Oh God, just leave me alone._

"Sod off..." he grumbled moodily, curling up into a ball, hugging his knees to his chest. He felt a throbbing pain right between his eyes and an achey sort of feeling in his stomach. His rib still hurt. He felt someone gently shaking his shoulder.

_Not again. I know what's going to happen: I'm going to wake up and nothing that I just went through will be real. Nothing is real, nothing but the pain. Leave me alone, let me just _die_ here..._

"Charlie!"

Who was it that knew his name? The voice sounded somehow familiar. Charlie opened his eyes, feeling slightly nauseous as he quickly jolted upright. He knew this person! But how did he know Charlie?? And...

"Locke... Locke... bloody hell, is it really you? Why are you in a wheelchair?? Was the plane crash really that bad?"

Hmm. Locke... and he had said... _Charlie, wake up_...

"H-how do you know my name?" Charlie suddenly blurted out. "Everyone else -- I mean, nobody -- everybody -- no one! -- no one remembers -- Claire, mason jar, Liam, don't understand me -- do what's best -- but it was worst, it was doing what's worst -- but then -- no, keep it, I said -- and -- and -- I came out here, yeah -- and --"

His eyes widened.

He reached back into his pocket and pulled out his little baggie of heroin. He stared at it and held it in his hand like it was the most disgusting thing he had ever seen, yet he didn't want to part with it. His fingers twitched. He needed _more._ But how could he? He could kill himself with this little powder if he took too much. But heroin wasn't in that bag. It was relief, a solid form of relief, was all. It temporarily took him away from the suffering, like the black from the hospital, but it always brought worse things when he woke up again. He hated that part... but he loved the relief. Lust was in his eyes as he stared at it, holding it far away, wanting to be rid of it, but then bringing it back towards his heart, wanting to have _more_, needing more, _neeeeding... moooore..._

Locke saw.

His eyes shifted from Charlie's hand moving oddly in and out, to Charlie's face. It was contorted into a sort of half-grimace, half-smile.

"Charlie... just relax..." Locke said tentatively. He rolled his wheelchair a bit closer and gently grasped Charlie's wrist.

Charlie jerked, nearly twitching off of the bench seat, his fingers suddenly lurching backwards as if on reflex. He clutched the bag posessively and gave Locke an fleeting glance. He felt the urge to get up and rush off but he thought he might throw up if he moved anymore.

John Locke brought his hand back from Charlie's wrist. He couldn't force it off of him... but what had made him go back? He had said something about Claire... something about not remembering, not understanding. And... he asked how he had known his name. Was it possible? Did Charlie remember the impossible too? Maybe he wasn't going crazy after all, as everyone else had began to think. And if he was, at least he wasn't the only one.

Charlie broke the silence as Locke closed his eyes in thought. Charlie didn't want Locke to think. Charlie wanted his secrets to be his own.

First, Charlie took a deep breath, then he swallowed.

_What a headache._

"Yo-o-ou know my nuh-naaaame," Charlie stammered, his words slurring slightly. He sounded like he was drunk. Oh great, just bloody brilliant. Well, it wasn't much better anyways. He wasn't drunk... but the after effects felt the same. Maybe better... no, worse. Yeah, that was it. It felt worse than being drunk. Charlie hadn't gotten drunk much... he had been a good little church boy before the drugs. He wasn't a big drinker, thank God. He -- had -- enough -- problems -- already.

Locke opened his eyes again, nodding.

"Yes, and you know mine," he said.

Charlie gaped for a few seconds, his head spinning again. Too much thinking. It hurt. He felt like an idiot, he couldn't think without hurting his head. Well, he _was_ an idiot, he had caved in to his sweet-talking brother, who had guilted him into the band. DriveShaft. Huh, Charlie still loved the music. It was a miracle, though, since every time he played the songs they reminded him of the pain that had gone along with the glory.

"Erm," Charlie continued, "yeah. Yeah. Yeah... but C-C-Claire" -- it was difficult to say her name, he found out -- "she didn't remember me. And Mason... she's a doctor... she said we never landed on an island. Island... do you remember the island?"

Locke nodded, keeping his expression soft as Charlie's face paled, his eyes and nose turning reddish. He quickly looked away and his expression went neutral but Locke could see what he was really feeling in his eyes. Eerie eyes. They used to be so cheerful, always scrunched up in a smile. Charlie had like joking around, trying to make friends with people on the island, Jack, Kate, Hurley, mostly, and then Claire. Now his eyes were sunken, sad, and more gray than blue, as Locke had remembered them.

He must've been imagining things....

Charlie looked gaunter and older than he had when Locke had first met him.

He must've been imagining things.

Charlie's fingers still had tapes around them, as always. They read **F A T E**. Locke remembered that, but the longer he stared, the letters were slowly changing... they said **H A T E**. There they went again, changing more than just one letter this time, **P A I N**. Locke blinked, squinting. The letters morphed one last time. **D E A D**.

He must've been imagining things!!

Was he really going insane?? He couldn't fall apart, not now, not when Charlie needed him. But what was so special about Charlie? He felt like a son to Locke. Or did he? Sometimes he felt more like an enemy, someone Locke regretted ever meeting.

When Charlie was pale, Locke could see tear stains on his cheeks. What had he been crying about? What was happening to them all?? Had they taken the island for granted? Maybe it was better when they were marooned.

"I remember an island, yes," Locke said slowly. "Jack... Kate... Boone, Shannon, Sayid, Sawyer, Hurley, there were so many people. And you, you and Claire were always together."

"Except at the end of it all," Charlie mumbled. "Then I was alone... no Claire. I was... alone... like now."

After a long silence, Locke risked a glance down at Charlie's balled-up fist. He didn't reach for it again but he did approach the subject of --

"Drugs... Charlie, you're back on drugs."

Charlie's unseeing stare turned to Locke. "Don't... understand..." he murmured. "Don't... you don't understand, don't you get it? We were never on the island... I never quit." He looked down at Locke's wheelchair. "So... what's your story, then? What's with the wheels?"

This time it was Locke who swallowed.

"Never on the island... Charlie, drugs, paralyzed... not remembering, not understanding. No, I think I understand. Charlie, I think I know what happened."

* * *

**Whoo hoo, what happened?? You'll hafta wait and see! I'll try to do these shout-out thingies for every chapter to show my appreciation for all reviewers!!!**

**Esmarelda Gamgee: **Aww, sorry it was sad! ;) Hope you liked anyways, thanks for e-mailing! I'll hafta see 50 First Dates sometime.

**Mythology: **Really? It's that good?? Thanks!!! ::blush:: I'm glad you like!

**Alatariel10: **Hmm, will Charlie and Claire get together?? Who knows! Only me. And I'm not telling. ::Giggles insanely::

**Frodosam4ever: **Sorry, had to add the heroin thing. Happy that you still liked though!

**Szhismine: **Haha! YES, POOR CHARLIE! Your review was funny!! Hope you review again!!

**Mina aka Mockingbird: **15?? Wow, thanks!! Dunno if it'll actually be that long, but who knows. ;) And the world needs more Charlie, so of course I'll write more...

**FanOfLost: **Bill Gates indeed! :D Hopefully this story will get better as it goes along, even if this chapter was a little dull or confusing or whatever it was... I dunno! I've been thinking about it too hard.

**Five more reviews please!! Is it still good?? Is it confusing? Ahh, that good ole Locke is _always_ confusing. Hope he was in character, even if he didn't talk much. I'll try to update soon then!**


	4. Fate

**Title:** Found  
**Author:** bookworm835  
**Category(s):** Drama/Mystery/not-so-much-Angst-this-chapter/prob'ly others too  
**Summary:** Ooh, Locke knows! Yup. Or is he just trying to be a smarty-pants? Haha, just kidding. Anyways, Locke knows, Charlie's pissed cuz - ehem. I'M NOT TELLING:laughs manically and runs off:  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own Lost :sob: But if J.J. Abrams (is that how you spell it?) kills Charlie off I _WILL_ OWN LOST, I'LL TAKE IT OVER AND BRING CHARLIE BACK TO LIFE! Anyways, I do not own and I'm not making any money. In fact, I'm LOSING money by spending all my time on this computer. Darn electric bills.  
**A/N:** Sorry for the long wait, I haven't felt very - erm, inspired lately. That also explains the short, crappy chappy. Haha! That slays me... :wipes away tear: So, here we go, the crappy chappy!

* * *

Charlie stared for a moment, his mouth dry, before exclaiming loudly and increadulously, "You _know_ what happened?" His eyes bulging, he quickly pocketed his baggie of drugs and blinked a few times, mouth opening and closing like a fish's.

Locke gave Charlie a small smile and a shrug. "I said I _think_. I'll have to ask - er, check it out."

After a few more minutes of gaping, Charlie blurted testily, "_Well?_"

More waiting.

Tick, tick, tick...

In the silence Charlie could almost hear Locke's gold wrist watch. The birds in the distance had quieted themselves and there was no wind whatsoever. The stillness was eerie.

Charlie blinked rapidly, his face flushing.

Locke had to tell him. Well, tell him that he _couldn't _tell him.

"You have to figure it out on your own, Charlie," Locke said, "otherwise things won't go back as they were and everything will remain this way. You're the only one that can fix this..."

"_Me,_" Charlie spat out, waving his arms around wildly. "_I _can't do anything, Locke, I can't even get my best and only friend to remember me! _I _am a bloody has-been rocker scum! _You_ are the one who always knows _everything_, absolutely _everything_. How can you expect _me _to 'fix this' when I don't even know what we're dealing with?"

Locke gave a small smirk. "Until you believe in yourself you _won't_ be able to do anything."

Charlie lowered his voice a little. "But... I don't know what I'm supposed to do, you're supposed to help me, you've always helped me when I had to do something important, I can't do it on my own."

"I think you can, and I think you have to."

Shaking his head disbelievingly, Charlie mumbled, "Why me, though? Why not Jack or Kate? I'm nothing special."

"'Special', Charlie, that's the key word there," Locke said, leaning forward in his wheelchair, his face somber and utterly serious. It was a bit unnerving. "Everyone on Flight 815 was special to this whole mess. It wasn't coincedence that those certain people gathered on the plane... it wasn't coincedence that they were the only to survive. There's a reason why we're the only ones who remember but you can still make others remember too." He suddenly reached down and swiftly brought Charlie's hand up to his face, examining the tapes wrapped around each finger closely. Charlie was looking absolutely bewildered, giving Locke odd little glances. Locke knew what was running through the young man's mind. Charlie thought he was crazy... and maybe he was... but it didn't matter, he had solved the mystery already. He had solved the mystery of the island as well and he hadn't been able to tell anyone else then either. Was that his new job or something? Ah well, it didn't matter, Charlie would be the one to report it all... if he could ever just _trust_ the supernatural.

Charlie shook his head again. "I still don't get it... Locke, why can't you just _tell me_ instead of talking in riddles? It'd be faster, we could fix this all today."

Pause.

Tick, tick, tick.

Waiting, impatience, confusion, anger, sadness, just waiting...

"Locke!"

"_Look_, Charlie, _look!_" Locke said suddenly, making Charlie jump. He twisted Charlie's hand about. "_This_ is the answer. _Look, _it _is_ fate!"

Charlie, flustered and a bit panicked from Locke's unexpected outburst, obeyed and glanced at his hand. His fingers spelled in bold, black lettering, **F A T E**. Nothing unusual...

"I wrote that a long time ago... on the first night on the island," Charlie explained, still perplexed by Locke's excitedness.

"Exactly!" Locke said, grinning widely, shaking Charlie's wrist violently.

Charlie looked away slowly, chewing his lip, slightly afraid. "Erm..."

Locke flashed another smile. "Watch it, Charlie, eventually you'll see what I mean. It'll all make sense when you _believe!_ I can't help you, but someone will. You won't know when you meet them, though, you'd never expect it'd be... this person. I have to go now... but you'll be fine, Charlie, I know you will be... _you'll_ be the one to save us all."

Charlie's eyes widened in alarm. "No, you can't leave now! Idon't get it, Locke - can't you at least give me... I dunno, some sort of... uh, hint or something? Please, I need as much help as I can get. This isn't a joke... we're really dealing with fate or something here..."

Nodding, Locke said solemnly, "Or something, Charlie. You can change fate, you can change your destiny."

"No, you can't change destiny. That's what _makes_ it destiny, right? What's my destiny that I'm supposed to cha - Locke?"

Locke was gliding off. Without even looking at Charlie, he replied, "You think fate is already chosen for you... but you can still change it, Charlie. A man woke up one morning and was very sick. Thinking he was just about the unluckiest person in the world, he settled down in his easychair and propped his legs up and turned on the news. Turns out his office building burned down, killing none but injuring many. He might've been the first to die if he hadn't been ill. Was it pure luck, destiny, or... something else? Sometimes you can change the worst of a situation into the best. Don't look at this whole ordeal as a curse, Charlie, think of it as a gift! Trust me... it'll help you out... in the end of it all. And I'll be waiting. Until next time, Charlie. Until next time."

And as Locke rolled away, Charlie pondered it all, and heard an odd noise in his ear echoing around his head.

Tick... tick... tick.

Until next time.

* * *

**Sorry if there were a ton of typos or anything, I tried to fix as much of it as I could, but when I uploaded the document all the commas and question marks and spaces and dash thingies disappeared! Sooo... again, sorry! Let's hope that those little problems weren't distracting, though... But I toldja it was a crappy chappy! Just don't kill me for not telling what Locke knows :squeaks and hides in the corner:**

**Esmarelda Gamgee:** :blush: Thanks! Umm, yeah, suspense but with a very disappointing answer... You'll hafta keep reading to figure out the secret of the - ehem. ;)

**Rockin' FluteTrumpet:** Haha, I'll buy you a straightjacket cuz I prob'ly made you mad by making Locke stubborn here! Uh, if that made sense... anyways, the update was soonish... just not soon:D I'll try ta be faster next time! Glad you liked!

**frodosam4ever:** Hope you liked, even though Locke is being stupid! Oopsie, did I just say that out loud? Ehem. I do not like Locke. Why? I dunno. But he's interesting enough I suppose... :)

**szhismine:** Yesss, Locke knows, and I know, but we're the only ones :crazy laughter:

**Harper's Pixie:** Aww, thankees! Glad you're luvin' it, sorry you're gonna hafta wait a good while before you figure out what's happening! I'm so evil.

**Mina aka: Mockingbird:**huggles back until you figure out that I'm not telling what's happening; you kick me, you kick Locke, you cuddle Charlie and drag him off and all fangirls get in a wild fight over poor Dom who has been squished beneath all the crazed fans:

**Uh oh, got to go before I get grounded _again_! Then there won't be another update for awhile again! Reviews, please?**


	5. Pain

**Title:** Found  
**Author:** bookworm835  
**Category(s):** Drama/Angst/blah-blah-blah-other-stuff  
**Summary:** Uhm, it's been so long since I've written in this that I've forgotten what happened in chapter four. Ehem. Uhh, Locke was being an ass. LOL. There's all ya need to know...  
**Disclaimer:** I'm not even supposed to be on the internet now. Tee hee. I'm such a naughty child.  
**A/N:** HUGE wait, I apologize very much. Dunno what else to say. Hm.

* * *

Charlie sat hunched over at a small, dark Australian bar, clutching a cooled mug in his shaky fingers. He had tried to keep his mind off the drugs and, unfortunately, ended up, instead, getting a beer. 

The room was relatively crowded. Charlie shut his eyes, a pounding headache threatening to burst his skull in half. His empty hand idly fidgeted with the tapes on his fingers. He couldn't help but feel a bit frustrated at Locke. Why couldn't the bloody man just speak _English_, for God's sake?

With everone packed so closely together, it was very hot, especially on that humid night. His beer wasn't so cold anymore. Charlie unclenched his hand from the handle and rubbed his sweaty palms against his jeans. His stomach was churning, his head still aching terribly, and maybe it was just in his head but it felt like his heart was hurting, too.

He heard voices behind him.

"Yes, Sarah, for the last time, I'm okay. I just don't want to talk about it."

"But it must be very stressful. Are you sure you don't want to --?"

"Positive, Sarah."

"I was so worried when I'd heard that the plane had crashed."

"I know, Sarah."

"You worry me with all your unsaid secrets, Jack."

Charlie whirled around -- a bit too quickly. He overbalanced in his seat and tipped over drunkenly, although he was quite certain that he wasn't drunk. He fell to his knees on the ground, holding his head, mumbling, "Jack, Jack, Jack..." Colors were swirling and fading around him, his vision blacking out. He heard malicious, mocking laughter. He sucked in a few breaths, trying to relax. The muscles in his arms and legs jerked and he collapsed. Then he felt swift hands on his shoulders, pulling him back up.

"Hey, hey, you okay? Sarah, get your cell phone. Hurry up, call an ambulance."

His head lolling, Charlie blinked. "I'm okay," he muttered almost sleepily, pushing away the hands irritably. It hurt even more when he was touched. "I -- I'm just tired..."

"Tired? No, no... Sarah, damn it, call that ambulance."

"I'm _trying_, Jack, don't rush me!"

"Rush you? This guy's hurt. You've gotta hurry up. Are you hurrying, Sarah?"

"_Yes,_ Jack, I'm hurrying!"

Charlie heard a wavering tone in her voice, as if she was crying. He gazed up and indeed saw a pretty blond woman rummaging through a bright pink purse, tears rolling down her cheeks.

"I'm okay, Jack," Charlie insisted, grabbing two fistfuls of Jack's shirt and pulling himself to his feet, wobbling a bit but regaining his balance. His head was still spinning but the jeering crowd had dispersed, letting him breathe better, though the air was still hot and sticky and very unpleasant.

"Hey, hey, easy," Jack said, one arm around Charlie's back and the other around his front, keeping him standing. "You sure? You alright?"

Sarah had stopped digging through her bag. Her eyes were wide, like an owl's. She slung her bag over her shoulder and stood behind Jack. "Jack? Do you know this man?" she asked cautiously.

"No," Jack answered distractedly, fumbling around for Charlie's wrist and taking a pulse.

"How does he know you, then?" Her voice was suspicious now.

"I don't know, honey, maybe he heard you talking to me."

"Then he was eavesdropping?" Now she sounded angry. "You don't need to help every drunken bastard in this friggin' bar, Jack. I never wanted to go here. You -- a doctor, of all people -- you were the one who insisted. I can't believe this! Jack, are you even listening to me?"

"Yes, Sarah. Hey, man, tell her -- how do you know my name?"

Charlie forced Jack's hands away. "I knew you," he said. "I knew you and you knew me. We were on a sodding island together for who knows how long, Jack! No one except me and Locke know. Well, I don't exactly know... but Locke does. Don't you remember me? Or Claire or Sayid or Sawyer or... Kate? Do you remember Kate?"

Sarah let a little offended gasp. "Who's _Kate_, Jack?" she demanded.

"_I don't know,_ Sarah," Jack hissed through clenched teeth. "I don't know who any of these people are. I don't know who this guy is. He fell; I'm a doctor, I helped him. Is that so terrible, _dear_?"

"Yes, actually," Sarah huffed. "It's a bar full of alcoholics! What are we doing here? Leave him, Jack, we're going home."

"No, I'm helping him," Jack argued. Charlie heard a dull ringing in his ears. He wished they'd shut up... or at least be more quiet. Everyone needed to be quiet. Everyone needed to leave him alone.

"Fine!" Sarah exploded. A few curious people around the bar risked a peek over at her. She glared at Jack. "Fine, you go help your little friend, you go have fun with Kate and Claire and all the other women, you son of a bitch." Then she stormed out.

Jack glanced over at Charlie. "Um, well then... you, uh, want help still?" he asked awkwardly.

"Listen, man, I'm... I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that..."

Jack quickly shook his head. "No, you didn't know she'd explode like that. You don't know Sarah."

There was a long moment of silence between them as other actual drunks loudly conversed in the background. Then Jack continued, "Uh, well... if you want to... I don't know --"

"Can I stay with you for a while?" Charlie interupted.

Jack, flustered, nodded numbly. "Yeah, that's what I was gonna -- yeah."

Charlie pressed on his temple and shut his eyes again, sighing in relief.

"You sure you're alright?" Jack urged.

"I... I think I'm just hungry or something," Charlie explained, scanning the counter and seeing his untouched beer, realizing that the only thing he'd eaten in at least the past forty-eight hours was a bit of imaginary peanut butter and a hit of heroin. Suddenly, as if on cue, his stomach grumbled unappreciatively. Jack smiled and even laughed.

"Okay," he said. "Let's get you in my car. I don't know where Sarah went but I'm sure it wasn't back home. We should go there, then. You wanna get a bite on the way or can you make it back?"

"I can wait."

Smiling again, Jack said gently, "Okay."

Jack lead Charlie out into the hot, starry night. The parking lot was just about as warm as inside. There wasn't any hint of wind anywhere in the air but the air was clearer with the absence of the sweat and alcohol and such. Charlie took a deep breath and sighed again. They clambored into Jack's beat-up red car and drove off. Charlie leaned back in the chair, his eyes shut again, gusts of wind from the air conditioner feeling like heaven on his hot, sweaty face, drying his dampish hair. Jack glanced over.

"You _sure_ you're --"

"God, Jack, you're just like you were on the island," Charlie mumbled, his eyes still closed.

Jack pressed his lips back together and stared out at the road. Then he asked, "What island?"

Charlie sighed harder. "Listen, if you don't know now, you won't know later. Trust me. It's an either you-know or you-don't sort of thing, sorry." Charlie could feel Jack's quizzical stare. He complained, "Don't act like I'm crazy, Jack. I know what I'm talking about. Locke believes me."

There was another long silence.

"Don't ask who Locke is," Charlie said.

"Alright," Jack said kindly, "I won't. We're almost home."

"Okay."

"...So, you know my name. What's yours?"

Charlie wondered if he should lie but what would the use of that be if the guy didn't remember him in the first place?

"I'm Charlie."

"Okay. Okay, Charlie."

For the rest of the ride they sat in silence, dark trees and black skies rushing past, Charlie's eyelids drooping as the cool air brushed against his face. Then he felt the car jolt slightly then stop. Charlie jerked up, rubbing his eyes.

"I thought if you were a doctor you'd made enough money to buy a better car than this... thing, Jack," he commented scathingly. He crawled out of the car seat and felt a jot of pain shoot up his back. He grumpily looked back down at the hard, uncomfortable car seat. Bits of stuffing and springs popped out through the artificial leather.

Jack laughed at this. "Yeah, I thought so too. C'mon, I've got one of those handy sofas that fold out into a bed."

Charlie yawned.

Jack's house was small and old, the shutters on the windows hanging haphazardly across the off-white shingles of the building. It was utterly black inside until Jack turned the keys in the doorknob and flicked the switch inside. Charlie nearly tripped over the doorway. Jack lead him into the kitchen and filled a chipped glass with tepid tap water. Charlie sipped it.

"Honestly, Jack, where do you spend all your money?"

Blinking almost guiltily, Jack mumbled, "I, uh... got my dad fired once. I paid him a bit to make up for it. Afterwards I gave a lot of the money to Sarah. I... I dunno where it goes. Well, there are more important things than money, right?"

"Yeah... yeah," Charlie muttered, shrugging.

Jack nodded. They stood in an awkward silence before Jack said, "Listen, I'm gonna fix that bed up for you. You can get anything you want from the kitchen. You want pajamas? I got pajamas, you want pajamas?"

Charlie furrowed his brow. "Uh, no thanks."

"You sure you're feeling okay?"

"I am now." Charlie tried to ignore how heavy the knot in his stomach and the little baggie of heroin in his pocket felt. His hands around the chipped cup shook slightly with a craving.

"I'm gonna, um, hit the sack then."

"Sure."

After a long moment of hesistating, Charlie blurted out as Jack disappeared down the hall, "Thanks a ton, mate. I owe you. I can't believe you'd just... let me... _in_ your house without question -- without even knowing my _name_. I know you don't believe me about the island thing but you're the only one not to label me as insane so far, which is pretty brilliant, Jack, considering that you're a doctor."

"...Who else did you talk to, Charlie?"

"John Locke..." Jack nodded. "...and... C-Claire Littleton." Charlie felt his face growing hot; his eyes clouded over and he hurriedly dipped his head and took another small swig of the lukewarm water.

Jack nodded sympathetically. He saw Charlie's hands tremble. "Maybe I should take a look at you..." he offered.

"Don't," Charlie snapped, a sudden wave of anger rushing over him. He slammed the glass on the already-chipped countertop. "I don't need your help!" He hardly realized what he was saying. "Stop treating me like a bloody child, Jack."

Jack squinted as if he could almost remember something but not quite. Then a look of realization came over him and he murmured, "Charlie...? You're Charlie... Pace? You're Charlie. Charlie Pace. You're him. Oh my God, I can't believe this, I can't believe this --"

Charlie's mood lifted. "You remember?" he asked eagerly.

Blinking rapidly, Jack said, "I -- I think so. No. No, I don't -- I don't know."

Charlie sighed. "No one ever does."

Jack also looked a bit disappointed. He opened his mouth half-way. "Charlie, I've gotta tell you something --"

He never got to finish because, at that exact moment, the door flew open with a _bang_ and a dark-haired, dark-skinned man stepped in purposefully, a gun held in his outstretched hand.

Charlie's jaw dropped. "...Sayid?"

Sayid's black eyes narrowed. "Where is she?"

* * *

**Oooh, cliffie. Who is 'she'? WHO IS 'SHE'? It shall haunt you for the rest of your days... distracting you from school, making you lose your appetite, sleep, etc. Muahaha. As usual, sorry for typos, grammar errors, you know, stuff that doesn't make sense, that sort of thing. I will try not to take so long to write one stupid chapter but I make no promises! Oh, and I don't remember where my last reviews ended and my new reviews began so I'm sorry if I forgot you... if I did, go ahead and write an angry review! LOL. :) I'll make sure to get you in, then.**

**Esmarelda Gamgee: **LOL, poor Charlie indeed! Final three episodes! HURRAY! Yes, I know Locke is being stupid, hehe, I don't like Locke. I know, like, EVERYONE likes him, and I'm sorry Locke-luvers, but I just don't like him. :) Glad you like and sorry again for the wait!

**CharlieClaireforlife: **First of all, I just want to tell you how obsessed I've been with your screen name or whatever you want to call it since Charlie took care of Claire's little "Turnip-Head". CC is such an awesome ship! Anyhow, happy you were waiting patiently because if I was you I wouldn't have been patient at all. :) Thanks for the review!

**CrazyWomanLovesYou: **Ooh, new reviewer! Thanks for the correction! You live in Australia? LUCKY:) I'd luv to go there... as long as the polar bears don't eat me... though, _technically_ they'd eat me in Hawaii, but hey, I'm rambling.

**Joralie:** Woo hoo, 'nother new reviewer! Haha, thanks, glad you think my story is "hot"... I think Dom is hot. Do you? XD Gotta luv him! Thanks for revieeeeeewing!

**Um, yup. Dunno what to write. I'm not in a talkative -- er, typeative? -- mood. I've got a ton of half-done chapters for other stuff in my story folder so hopefully you'll be seeing me go post-happy soon. Mostly new story chapters, though. I have so much stuff in my brain and so little time to put it down! Ah well... please please please please please please pleaseeeeeee review!**


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